The Nature of Nothing
by Sinspawn Ammes
Summary: Behind their calm demeanors and empty chest cavities, the Organization XIII members are still human, in the most human way possible. Find out how. Rated for later Chapters


So, I'm back to writing fanfics, since I have a lot more free time during the summer. I'm not sure at the moment where I'm going with this. It might end up being 50 chapters, or end up being 3, but let's just enjoy the ride for now.

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story that is also in KH I, KH COM, or KH II, belongs to me.

A little clarification: The events depicted occur AFTER the end of KH1, but BEFORE the events of KH: CoM. In other words, Roxas exists, and is in the organization, but the CoM members (Larxene, Laexeaus, etc) are all still alive.

* * *

He gazed around the pearly white room, with its large walls and insignia-adorned windows. It was early morning outside, and the sun was just rising (though, in this place, it was hard to tell whether there was a sun at all).

Sitting up on his bed, he sighed and ran his hands through his rough dirty blond hair, emitting a long, laborious yawn that would have likely awoken everyone else were it not for their terrible sleeping habits. Yes, Demyx was an early riser, as he had been in life, and it was no different as the shell that he was now.

"I'm hungry…" he muttered to himself as he slithered out of the bed, massaging his right collarbone as he moved. Apparently, he must have slept on an odd angle, because the muscle was stiff and thickly coiled like a unkempt rope. He traversed the room, 'traverse' being on the other synonym of 'cross' that did justice to the chamber's size, and opened the pearly white closet door on the room's far wall. Inside, in neatly arranged rows, were over three dozen black cloaks, complete with black undershirts, black pants, black socks, black shoes, and extra black laces for the aforementioned shoes. Grabbing the closest outfit, he walked over to another door on the room's periphery, and entered a bathroom. In a steady, methodical fashion, he removed his pajamas, brushed his teeth, styled his hair into a fashionable mullet, performed other matters of toilette and personal hygiene that need not be mentioned for the sake of time and sanity, and put on the all-black outfit. Demyx examined himself in the mirror once more, before exiting the backroom, and the room altogether. He stepped out into a large, white hallway, and took a right.

The kitchen door opened, and three pairs of eyes stared at it simultaneously. One pair was green, the other two blue, but all three pairs were equally exhausted. In came a man of moderate stature with a faintly disgusting haircut, donning the black cloak and related accessories that were the mandatory uniform in this place. The man's eyes scanned the room.

"Who's the new guy?" He asked inquiringly. Another cloaked but unhooded figure glanced around nervously and stood up.

"I'm, uh, Roxas," the second figure said, uncertain as to what procedure was in this strange place. He took a deep bow. A third cloaked but unhooded figure laughed raucously.

"Don't bow to that fag, he might sneak behind you and rock your ass." She smiled especially vibrantly after that brilliant pun, but Demyx had cringed noticeably at the insult. He frowned gravely.

"I'm not gay," he said grimly, as though threatening anyone who would challenge that notion. The third figure rose to her feet, a plate of eggs and bacon in her left hand, and walked to the sink. Bending over, she opened the dishwasher and slipped the plate inside, along with the fork and knife she had used to consume the plate's contents. Demyx gulped deeply, Roxas stared with a blank expression, while the fourth cloaked but unhooded figure in the room grinned.

This quartet was, of course, in the kitchen of the Nobody castle, a colossal and imexplicably complex structure. Fashioned out of half a dozen pillars of orichalchum, the structure was home to the thirteen individuals who lived (or rather, _did not_ _live_) inside of it. It could be found in the world that never was, Intelligenterra, surrounded by dark skyscrapers and shrouded by the dark clouds that were a constant background in this in-between world.

The castle itself served more as a residence than a base of operations for the thirteen members living there. It conveniently had thirteen rooms, several living rooms, an entertainment room, a large kitchen, a massive dining room, a movie studio, and of course, balconies displaying the spectacular, if not disheartening, horizon of the world that never was.

Larxene closed the dishwasher and glanced behind her. The two men and the one boy were staring anxiously in her direction.

"Do you losers mind?" she snapped, grabbing the skillet in which the bacon was prepared. She ran a stream of cold water into it, and the oil sizzled and jumped, surprised at having encountered its arch nemesis. Demyx caughed and walked to a chair. Roxas looked down, apparently overcome with shame, while the fourth figure continued to grin.

Larxene glanced back again and found one of the men still staring in her direction. Grabbing the skillet in her hand, she walked slowly towards the fourth figure, her eyes flickering with malice.

"Are we going to have a problem here, Saïx?" she asked threateningly, holding the skillet close enough to his head to telegraph her intentions. Saïx chuckled softly, and returned to his meal.

And so a glimpse into the dismal lives of Organization XIII is revealed. As bodies without a heart, they are guided by the singular impulse to regain what they have lost; however, more significantly, they are guided by the body's struggle to survive. All the baser human instincts and urges are multiplied in a nobody, because the body is, in fact, what allows a nobody to remain animate. With no heart to maintain the stability of the being, the rest of it disintegrates rapidly, both the body and soul. Only by satisfying the body's exorbitant demands can a nobody subsist.

You see, then, the strength and weakness of the Organization, which is ironically both the strength and weakness of the human race from which the Organization is derived: women. For the twelve male members, the Organization has a single female member (and to complicate matters, they have a predatory and instigative one), and in general, these twelve male members only have access to two females in general. They are Larxene and Naminé. This places the male to female ratio at about 6 to 1, and you can now imagine why the Organization is so strong; they have plenty of battle experience deciding who gets to satisfy their carnal urge to procreate.

But even then, it is the men who have trouble satisfying the urge. Both Naminé and Larxene are offered a fun time between the sheets almost incessantly. Though the older, more experienced members, have learned to control their body's demands, they still need some lovin'. It is based on this sad, terrible fact that our story unravels.

* * *

A short prelude. Methinks this has the possibility to go places, and I can't wait to pit everybody against each other. T'will be fun. 


End file.
